


Learning to Fall (With No Safety Net)

by hongbab



Category: VIXX
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9773918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongbab/pseuds/hongbab
Summary: Hongbin dreads falling in love, but he feels more and more like there’s no way back this time.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended song: Natasha Bedingfield - [I Bruise Easily](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAOdlgFJDAI)

Lee Hongbin is always the nervous type when it comes to getting into a new environment. And by nervous type, I mean nervous to the point his entire body shakes so hard, so embarrassingly three days before the actual event that he feels like hiding in tight places to try not to lose any of his limbs from the vibrations.

He’s doing exactly that now on the bus, on his way to the language school. He’s jammed between the window and a burly, middle-aged man, holding his backpack to his chest. The man glances at him weirdly, probably because Hongbin’s violent trembles run through his body as well, but Hongbin only sees that from the corner of his eye as he lowers his head, hot waves washing over him and tinting his cheeks pink. He’s listening to a song much too dynamic to his liking on full blast through his earphones in an attempt to keep his thoughts about what might go terribly wrong during the first day away, but it fails to muffle them. They’re blaring through his mind louder than the actual music, making him feel like he’s going to puke either into his own or his seat mate’s lap in approximately ten seconds.

He takes a deep breath, and tries to remember where exactly that language school is situated. He’s been there before; twice, to be exact. First, when he walked his friend, Wonshik there, because Wonshik’s mother forced her son to learn a language that will later “help him find a decent job”. (Wonshik did check the courses out, but he never actually entered the language school, lying to his mother about the whole thing and trying to avoid going home from his university dorm 105 miles away from his hometown, keeping the money he’s sent for his studies on his bank account, and when he “accidentally” spends some of it, he tries to earn it back through a number of insidious business, so that when–as he said–, in about 30 years, he has the courage to return to his family, he can confess and give it all back.) For the second time he went there to apply for a beginner English course, because, let’s face it, Korean is not the most popular language on Earth.

He stands up two stops before his, stumbling over the legs of the man beside him, stuttering an apology and almost falling face first on the floor when the driver brakes. He makes it to the handrail eventually, his legs wobbling hard. He even succeeds in walking to the building and checking in, although, when he is asked to show his ID, a bunch of tissues fall out of the pocket of his backpack, scattering around on top of the desk, and even the secretary’s keyboard. The lady hands him back the tissues and checks his ID, directing him towards the staircase, telling him to look for room 44 on the second floor. Hongbin thanks her and quietly panics over the fact that the staircase can lead to an awfully long and/or tortuous corridor, where even people might be lounging around and where he’s not entirely sure he can find room 44 at the first attempt.

Miraculously, the corridor is not  _that_  long, and room 44 is right in front of him as he reaches the top of the staircase. The door is closed though, so he lifts his jittery hands to knock on it, not receiving any reply. He decides to open the door and step into the room where about ten other students are sitting at the desks arranged in an incomplete rectangle. He quietly greets the group of boys and girls, men and women, young and older, and finally sits down by the corner closest to the wall, so that he will only have one desk mate right next to him and can be in a reasonable distance from the teacher’s desk.

Hongbin fiddles with his bag, pulling out a notebook and a battered pencil case with all sorts of doodles on the cream coloured fabric: robots and stick men and the tiniest landscapes along with some silly nicknames (multiple occurrences of  _₩$ik_ and  _RedBean_ ) and abbreviations of bands and singers’ names, anime and song titles filling the spaces between them. He kind of feels a little ashamed as he puts it on the desk, because everyone around him has only one or two pens in front of them, but he loves his pencil case and he has had no intention of getting a new one for the last six years. Also, maybe, probably it makes him feel a little like Wonshik is there with him to be of some support; at least dozing off next to him if not more.

The teacher enters two minutes later, forcing Hongbin to try to put his phone away, but of course he drops it, the phone loudly clattering on the floor. No one seems to care about it, but he still receives a curious look from a fellow student, an elderly woman. The teacher hands each of them a textbook, and goes through the names one by one. Hongbin shyly smiles at her. After they reach the end of the list, the teacher wants them to practise some basic expressions that all of them “might know from songs or movies”. She randomly picks people and helps them come up with expressions.

“What do English people say when they have a strong affection for someone?” she asks, and the class becomes silent.

Hongbin feels his stomach drop. He was chosen to give the answer, and even though he knows it, it’s way too awkward to tell the teacher. He convinces himself to do so in the end, because he  _can’t_  give up right at the beginning.

“ _I love you_ ,” Hongbin mutters, blinking at his notebook.

A girl starts giggling, but when she realizes no one laughs with her, she stops.

“That’s right. What do they say in return?” the teacher asks next, scanning the list of names. “Han Sanghyuk?”

Hongbin peeks at the boy almost opposite him. He has a bright smile as he looks first at Hongbin, and then at the teacher, saying: “ _I love you, too._ ”

And Hongbin dies.

Well, not quite, but he feels like he might would, because Sanghyuk looks at him again, seemingly trying to contain his laughter, his lips quivering as a small grin makes its way onto his face, his eyes turning into shiny little crescents behind his glasses, making him look like a mischievous goblin. He’s grinning at Hongbin, actually, and along with him other students are as well, so Hongbin shoots him a glare, but it’s half-hearted and comes with a tiny smile; Sanghyuk looks pretty charming, actually, with the fringe of his lightly coloured brown hair hanging over the black plastic frame of his glasses and his nose that looks too fleshy compared to his bony facial structure. He looks cute, to tell the truth, the kind of cute you think your little brother, or a puppy is.

Probably.

Sanghyuk quickly becomes embarrassing to be around, although, it’s not entirely his fault.

When Hongbin goes downstairs to the lounge during the half hour break between the two classes, he stands in the doorway for a few seconds, looking around the people getting to know each other while stirring their coffee and reuniting while munching on their sandwiches. He stands there a second too long, because someone bumps into his back, making him drop to his knees. People hiss and someone shouts in surprise, and Hongbin’s ears are ablaze. He tries to get up, but before he could, a hand is reached out to him. He looks up at the hand’s owner who turns out to be Sanghyuk.

“Sorry, oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, man, I wasn’t looking and–“

“Shut up, hyung.”

Hongbin looks up at Sanghyuk and another guy behind him, someone who looks a little older. Sanghyuk is the one who tries to silence him, but the guy is still blurting out apologies, reaching his arm out to Hongbin too, and so there comes a huge dilemma: whose hand to take? Hongbin grabs Sanghyuk’s in the end, mumbling his thanks to him, and Sanghyuk smiles softly.

“Can I, like, buy you something?” the stranger asks. “A coffee, maybe?”

“I’m fine,” Hongbin replies, giving a small nod while smiling at him awkwardly, and leaves the two of them for the vending machines.

Hongbin waits in line in front of them, telling himself to loosen up a bit, and when his turn comes, and he wants to push some coins through the slit, he realizes that he doesn’t have enough change.

“Need some?”

Hongbin turns his head towards the voice to see a palm in front of him, coins on the top of it and Sanghyuk looking at him questioningly.

“No, it’s okay,” Hongbin says, and wants to run away, but steps aside instead.

“Oh, come on,” Sanghyuk rolls his eyes at him which slightly annoys Hongbin, but he has no chance to voice his displeasure, because Sanghyuk occupies the now empty spot in front of the machine and inserts some coins. “So what would you like?”

“It’s really not that important.”

“But it is to me.”

“And why should I care about what’s important to you?”

Hongbin’s question would come out rude if his lips weren’t stretched into an amused smile. Sanghyuk turns around and fakes offence, his brow furrowed in mock indignation.

“You just told me you loved me!”

Sanghyuk tries to keep a straight face yet again, but is unable to do so. He grins widely; his teeth are round and snow white behind his cherry red lips. Hongbin blushes when he finds his gaze lingering on Sanghyuk’s mouth, but then he notices that he himself is grinning too.

“I didn’t tell you that, I told…” Hongbin stops, because what he wants to say is not something that should really be uttered.

But Sanghyuk does utter it when he finishes the sentence for him: “…the teacher, which is about ten times weirder. Anyway, I’m going to ask you one more time: what would you like?”

“Lemon tea,” Hongbin sighs eventually.

So he gets a cup of lemon tea. He thanks Sanghyuk, and tries to slink away, but not really, because then he will be alone, so he only stands next to the machine.

“Sorry about Jaehwan,” Sanghyuk says, taking a sip of his coffee, scrunching his nose, either because it’s too hot or because it’s bad. “He’s kind of silly.”

“I’d say dangerous,” replies Hongbin, gulping down some of the tea which is surprisingly not the worst he has ever tasted.

“He’s only dangerous if you’re sensitive to people talking an awful lot.”

Hongbin smiles, and then another stranger comes up to Sanghyuk, winding an arm around his shoulder at which Sanghyuk winces, and then tilts his head to the other side with a tormented expression and a sigh.

“Hyuk-ah,” the guy singsongs, beaming at Sanghyuk, “I just heard you got yourself a boyfriend! Is he the one?”

Hongbin all but spits his tea out when the black haired, cheerful-looking guy looks at him.

“Cha Hakyeon,” he says, holding out a hand for Hongbin to shake.

But Hongbin can’t do that, because his cheeks become warm as something close to humiliation washes over him.

“I’m not– I-I’m not his boyfriend I–“

“He knows that very well,” Sanghyuk says, taking Cha Hakyeon’s arm off his shoulder and glaring at him. “Did Jaehwan-hyung tell you?”

“You know he can’t pass up a funny story,” Hakyeon replies, smirking. “But now that I see you two together I get the feeling that this wasn’t only a funny story.”

Hongbin shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to become invisible, but when he looks at his hands again, he can still see them. What a pity.

“Ah, seriously,” Sanghyuk grumbles.

“Leave the lovers alone, hyung,” Jaehwan yells from the background, and Hakyeon skips to him.

Hongbin covers his face with his free hand. This wasn’t among the things he thought about while pondering what might go wrong on the first day, but he thinks it’s time to put it on the list.

Fingers curl around his wrist and he feels his arm being tugged at. He lowers his hand and Sanghyuk releases him.

“Sorry about that too,” he shakes his head resignedly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t think so…”

“You think I only have obnoxious friends, huh?” Sanghyuk downs the rest of his possibly awful coffee and throws the cup into the trash can. “You have every right to think so, because… yeah, I only have these too, and they’re pretty overwhelming at times.”

“Overwhelming,” Hongbin repeats, tasting the word, trying to decide whether it’s an accurate expression for the two people who just ruined him.

“Maybe that isn’t the most precise word,” Sanghyuk chuckles as if he can read Hongbin’s mind. “Annoying is probably more fit. But they’re cool.”

“Then why don’t you… um…” Hongbin looks down at the now empty cup in his hands, “…why don’t you go over there?”

“Because you look lonely.” Hongbin blinks up at Sanghyuk, seeing a sheepish smile that soon turns into a more puckish one. “And I’d hate to see the person I just confessed to standing awkwardly in a corner.”

“This is seriously not funny,” Hongbin says, fiddling idly with the cup.

“I think it is.”

“You have a shitty sense of humour, then.”

“Been told that.”

Suddenly, someone rushes past them, whispering way too loudly to Sanghyuk “He’s cute!”, and Hongbin watches Sanghyuk show his middle finger to Jaehwan and a giggling Hakyeon.

“As I said, they’re nice people.”

“They are, aren’t they,” Hongbin mumbles.

“I hope you’re not angry or something?” Sanghyuk peers when Hongbin averts his eyes.

“No, I’m not,” Hongbin replies, smiling reassuringly when he sees the worry on Sanghyuk’s face. “As long as you promise that you’ll stop talking about  _that_ thing, I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

And Sanghyuk grins with true amusement in his eyes.


	2. II

Three days later, Hongbin wakes up to his phone ringing in the middle of the night (12.27 AM, to be exact).

He reaches to the nightstand, almost knocking the bedside lamp over, not even bothering to look at the screen before he answers the call, turning onto his other side while slurring: “Hello?”

There’s some fumbling and whispering on the other side.

“He picked it up!”

“I’m not going to talk to him!”

“You have to!”

“Why?”

“Because he already answered it!”

“Why are we fucking calling people in the middle of the night, anyway?”

“Not people, only him.”

Hongbin blinks a few. It’s definitely very strange for him to receive calls so late in the night from people other than Wonshik, and whatever’s going on on the other end of the line sounds even stranger. He tries to wake himself enough to be able to be bothered about the whole thing, but fails.

“Hello?” he asks again.

“Jeez, can you hear that? His voice is all raspy and deep, it’s pretty hot, isn’t it?”

“He’s probably still half-asleep for God’s sake! Okay, give me that shit.”

Another session of prolonged rustling, probably a door closing, and then throat clearing.

“Uh, hello?”

“Who’s that?” Hongbin inquires, now fully awake and trying to comprehend what’s going on.

“Sanghyuk,” the answer comes, and Hongbin’s eyebrows move up on his forehead. “Look, sorry to wake you up, I didn’t even want it, actually.”

“Hakyeon and Jaehwan?”

“Yeah…” Sanghyuk chuckles, making Hongbin remember the way his nose wrinkles when he does so. “Um…”

“How did you get my number?”

“Well, Hakyeon’s good at lying and the secretary’s weak to smiles and tear-jerking stories about students leaving their stuff behind, so he sort of convinced her to give out your number and… here we are.”

“I see,” is all Hongbin is able to utter. “So… do you want something from me?”

“Right now or in the long run?”

Another small laugh, and for some reason the corners of Hongbin’s lips curl up as well.

“Both.”

“Right now they just wanted me to talk to you, because…” Sanghyuk stops for a moment. Hongbin finds himself holding his breath. “Well, I guess, it was pretty obvious that they like to fool around and the teacher gave them the opportunity by asking you and me those questions, so–“

“You shouldn’t have told them about it,” Hongbin cuts in, just to keep things clear.

“Do you think so?”

Hongbin doesn’t know what the undertone of Sanghyuk’s question suggests, and he sincerely wishes he could see Sanghyuk’s face now so as not to reply in a dumb way. He laughs nervously in the end, saying: “Not really.”

“I’m glad,” Sanghyuk answers, and Hongbin can almost  _hear_  his smile.

“So what about… the long run?”

A small sigh and another tiny titter. It feels like half of their conversation is composed of that.

“We could grab a coffee sometime? I mean, outside school, because that coffee was pretty much grounds and stale hot water.”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“Oh, right, lemon tea,” Sanghyuk says. “So, what do you say?”

“I… okay,” Hongbin replies quietly.

“You’re paying, though.”

“I am.”

“Nice. Tomorrow at 3, maybe?”

“Today tomorrow or tomorrow tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a nice coffee place a few blocks away from the language school. Meet you there?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome. Then, good night, and sorry for disturbing you.” Before Hongbin could say goodnight to him, Sanghyuk quickly says: “Oh, and Hongbin?”

“Yeah?”

“Your voice really sounds great at this hour of the night.”

Hongbin’s breath hitches and he almost chokes on his own saliva, but eventually manages to stay alive.

“Thanks, uh… yours too.”

The  _sound_ of a grin.

“See you tomorrow tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah.”


	3. III

On the day of the meeting, Hongbin feels like dying. No, actually, he feels like a corpse.

He hasn’t got much sleep since the curious phone call in the middle of the night, and he does not want to think it’s because of the excitement that makes his stomach knot and his face flush every time he thinks about lemon teas and English words (and he thinks about the latter a lot, because he’s a diligent person).

He refuses to call it a  _date_ , to be quite honest. It’s not because he’s stupid, he certainly isn’t, and he could pick up the small things during his two conversations with Sanghyuk that suggested their entire trip to the coffee shop would be some kind of a tryst or end up as one, at least. It’s a fact that he’s aware of the nature of the rendezvous, but it’s also a fact that if he even just thought of the word ‘date’, he would probably have a heart attack.

The late May sun shines on him from above like it would in a cheesy rom-com, now that he is  _not_  thinking about the whole thing as a date. The nape of his neck is clammy; a drop of sweat rolls down his spine, under the collar of his light blue button-up, under the white T-shirt beneath, and he mentally curses at himself–his body is betraying him. It’s not that hot outside, but he feels like burning up, especially when he spots Sanghyuk standing in front of the coffee shop window, looking around with his hands in the pockets of his white shorts, a snapback sitting on top of his head, the brim turned backwards, and for a moment Hongbin stops his steps, wants to run away as fast as he can.

But Sanghyuk turns his head towards him, a hand sliding out of his pocket and winding into the air to wave at him, causing an awkward, dimpled smile to appear on Hongbin’s face in return.

“Hey,” Sanghyuk greets him happily.

“Hey,” Hongbin mumbles back. “Have you been waiting for long?”

“I guess the standard answer to this question is ‘no, I just arrived’,” Sanghyuk replies, grinning. “But, to tell the truth, I’ve been here for half an hour.”

“Why?” Hongbin asks, furrowing his brow while Sanghyuk puts a hand on his back, ushering him inside, making Hongbin’s knees buckle a little as he steps over the threshold.

“Nervousness,” Sanghyuk says, sitting down in a booth, and Hongbin takes the seat opposite him. There’s a tiny pink blush on Sanghyuk’s cheeks, barely noticeable but still present as he looks down at his own fingers intertwining on the tabletop, his mouth stretched wide, flashing snow white teeth. “Took a bus too early. Didn’t want to be late, so… I’m pretty lame, I know.”

“No, that’s…,”  _‘cute’_ , Hongbin wants to say but does not dare; that would be too awkward, not that he doesn’t feel awkward enough already. It’s not Sanghyuk’s fault, though; it’s his own fault, because he’s way too tense to be able enjoy the situation perfectly. “That’s okay. I got ready way too early, too.”

Hongbin lets out a chuckle that sounds very much like  _‘heheheh’_ , and hates himself for it for a few seconds, until a waitress shows up to take their order.

“A lemon tea,” Sanghyuk says, glancing at Hongbin, earning a nod from the other, “and a caramel macchiato, please.”

“Did you deliberately choose the most expensive one?” Hongbin asks when the waitress leaves their table, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“More or less,” Sanghyuk replies. “It’s not the most expensive one, but I deliberately chose one from the medium price range.”

“Shameless.”

“Cheapskate.”

They both start laughing at the same time, and Hongbin’s heart makes a weird move–it feels like it crawls a little higher in his chest, throbs a little more dynamically.

They receive their coffee and tea and engage in a very first date-like conversation about their families, studies and hobbies, and soon Hongbin finds out that Sanghyuk is a lot more than just a cheerful kid: he likes all that anime and manga stuff, video games and horror films, but he also sings in his free time, and Hongbin almost falls off his chair when he hears that.

“I sing too,” he says, eyes widening as Sanghyuk raises his eyebrows. He scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. “I mean… I try to sing. I’m not very good…”  _heheheh_ , “…but I like doing it. Wonshik, my friend, he writes songs and has a keyboard, and sometimes we practise together. I can ask him to practise with you too.”

“Oh, I would love to let him experience true pain,” Sanghyuk says, giggling nervously, “but I’m not sure if he’d like that. My voice is off-pitch most of the time; I’m the biggest amateur in the world.”

“That makes the two of us, then,” Hongbin replies, staring into his cup. “Although, I don’t really believe what you’re saying. I’d like to hear you sing.”

“Not until you sing to me.”

Hongbin looks up from his tea, sees Sanghyuk’s eyes boring into his; those dark, prettily shining eyes that seem to be slightly crossed sometimes and very, very happy and mischievous, making their owner look like he’s always up to something bad. A tiny smile accompanies that look, and Hongbin feels himself falling just the way you fall in your dreams, your entire body jerking and causing you to wake up, leaving you dizzy for a few more moments–only this dizziness doesn’t seem to go away very soon for him.

“We can return to this topic on a different occasion,” he manages to mutter in the end.

He doesn’t miss the way the right corner of Sanghyuk’s mouth moves upwards as he takes a sip of his drink, and Hongbin wonders if that really sounded as an invitation for a next  ~~date~~  meeting, or Sanghyuk is smirking because of something entirely irrelevant to the conversation.

It’s when he starts talking about his ambitions to learn how to play the guitar perfectly that a body flops down next to him, almost knocking his tea over. Hongbin jumps in surprise, turns around and sees…

“Wonshik?” Hongbin blinks a few as if he wasn’t able to comprehend the presence of his best friend, silently asking for confirmation from Sanghyuk who looks utterly baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Saw you coming in,” Wonshik replies, adjusting the beanie on his head, turning to Sanghyuk and extending an arm, “Kim Wonshik.”

“Han Sanghyuk,” Sanghyuk mutters, shaking Wonshik’s hand.

“What have you been doing in this part of the town?” Hongbin asks, knowing that Wonshik has been avoiding the area ever since his failed attempt at applying to the language course.

“Don’t worry about it,” Wonshik replies, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask you if you’d like to come over to have a few drinks on Friday. Um, you can come too,” he adds, turning to Sanghyuk.

“What about Taekwoon?” Hongbin narrows his eyes.

He knows it’s not much fun to have his collar grabbed by the robust third year student that shares the dorm room with Wonshik only to be literally thrown out of the building when he makes too much noise. To tell the truth, just being around Taekwoon doesn’t seem much fun, but Wonshik doesn’t complain. It appears that he hasn’t given up on befriending Taekwoon despite having spent more than a year with him, still only getting glares and slight nudges on his shin as response whenever he asks or says something Taekwoon does not approve of. For some miraculous reason Taekwoon has never wanted to move out of the room either, what’s more, according to Wonshik, sometimes he makes coffee and breakfast for the younger, staying silent when asked about the meaning of his random act of kindness.

“He’s been gone for days,” Wonshik shrugs. “I doubt he’ll be back soon.”

“What do you mean gone?” Hongbin arches an eyebrow at his friend.

“He kind of… disappeared? He’s not missing, though. I mean, not officially. One day he just didn’t come back to the dorm, but it’s not the first time. He barely ever tells me where he goes, says it’s none of my business, so… yeah. Come over. I don’t want to be bored.”

Because of the above reasons, Hongbin doubts that Taekwoon would be of much entertainment even if he was there, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts.

“I don’t know…” Hongbin replies, chewing on the inside of his mouth momentarily before glancing at Sanghyuk. “What do you say?”

“Sure,” Sanghyuk nods. “I mean, if you want to go. And if it really isn’t a problem if I go too.”

“The more the merrier,” Wonshik smiles. “You can bring some other people too, if you want. The room’s not very big, but it should be enough for a few people.”

“Two of my friends might want to come,” Sanghyuk says, looking at Hongbin with a smile, and Hongbin grins back, knowing who he’s talking about. “I’ll ask them.”

“Nice!” Wonshik claps his hands. “I’ve got to go now but you two… have fun?”

Wonshik stands up, and for the first time since he arrived so elegantly, he seems to be trying to find out what exactly Hongbin and Sanghyuk are doing together in a coffee shop, or, to be more precise, what the context of their drinking their tea/coffee might be. Hongbin sends him a glare, but Wonshik doesn’t catch it, his eyebrows knitting a little before he bids them goodbye.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one with weird friends,” Sanghyuk says when Hongbin turns back to him.

“He’s not weird,” Hongbin says a little defensively, but then he thinks the past events through, tilting his head to the side. “Well, not  _that_ weird.”


	4. IV

When Hongbin and Sanghyuk–-previously met at the metro station closest to Wonshik’s dorm–-arrive, Hongbin feels a little playful. He stops at the top of the staircase, and Sanghyuk stops with him.

“What’s wrong?” Sanghyuk asks.

“Which one do you think it is?” Hongbin asks, pointing around the corridor, around all of the doors, looking up at Sanghyuk. He almost lets envy wash over him when he realizes how much he has to tilt his head up when he’s standing this close to Sanghyuk, but then Sanghyuk purses his lips, thinking, and that’s a lot more important than their height difference.

“Maybe the one where someone’s blasting this obnoxious hiphop music?” he guesses, glancing at Hongbin.

“Clever,” Hongbin grins, and steps to the door of said room.

He knocks as hard as he can, and Wonshik opens the door a few seconds later. He lets them in with a grin, taking the grocery bags full of booze from them. Hongbin immediately steps to the speakers Wonshik has connected to his laptop, turning the volume down.

“Where are your friends?” Wonshik asks, absentmindedly reaching out for the volume control, breaking into an impromptu finger wrestling match with Hongbin who refuses to let him turn the sound back up.

“They should be here in twenty minutes,” Sanghyuk says, checking the time on his phone. “Neither of them is very punctual and they’re even worse when they’re together.”

“It’s okay,” Wonshik says, finally giving up on turning the music up, stepping to his desk where he has a number of plastic cups out, unscrewing the cap of a bottle of vodka and pouring some into three cups along with some Sprite. He hands two of the cups to Hongbin and Sanghyuk, taking one for himself as well. “We’ll be in a better mood by the time they arrive.”

“Not me,” Hongbin mumbles, holding his cup up for cheers.

Wonshik gulps his own drink down like it’s a glass of water, pouring some more for himself, and Sanghyuk takes a sip of his own as he sits down on Taekwoon’s messy bed next to Hongbin.

“Can’t drink?” he asks.

“High alcohol tolerance,” Hongbin sighs.

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

Sanghyuk drinks almost half of his vodka-Sprite mix, and smiles at Hongbin, wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him closer just a little.

“It’s okay. We can still have fun, right?”

Hongbin nods, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. He tries to tell himself that it’s the alcohol, that it doesn’t mean anything, Sanghyuk’s arm around his neck is nothing but a friendly gesture, but it’s no use trying to fool himself: Sanghyuk hasn’t even drunk half of Wonshik’s too sweet concoction–he can’t be drunk. He stops thinking too much and tries to drink all of his own vodka-Sprite instead.

They’re all drinking their third cup when Sanghyuk gets a call from Hakyeon demanding to be let into the dorm. Wonshik slides his feet into his slippers and leaves the room to go downstairs for the new guests, and as soon as the door closes behind him, Sanghyuk puts his cup onto the desk, lying down on Taekwoon’s bed, his legs reaching over the edge.

“God, so woozy,” he mutters, closing his eyes, furrowing his brow.

Hongbin, sitting by him, looks down at Sanghyuk’s face, mentally slapping himself when he realizes that he’s smiling fondly at the boy’s grimace.

“Are you this much of a lightweight?” Hongbin asks.

Sanghyuk opens his eyes, visibly forcing himself to focus on Hongbin’s face. He lifts his right arm, his hand lingers in the air above Hongbin’s fingers that clutch his cup, but then he lets it fall back onto the mattress. Hongbin tries to ignore the bitter disappointment that spreads in his stomach.

“No, usually I’m not,” Sanghyuk says, his words coming out as slurs, but they’re still mostly decipherable. “I just didn’t have dinner. Or lunch, for that matter.”

“Why?” Hongbin inquires.

He finds it ridiculous that he feels the urge to chastise Sanghyuk for doing something so stupid, because, really, who is he to worry about this boy?

“Didn’t have time for it,” Sanghyuk shrugs and rolls onto his side, burying his face into Taekwoon’s pillow.

Hongbin wants to tell him that he’ll go down to the small convenience store nearby to get some food if he wants, but then the door opens, and it suddenly becomes very noisy in the room.

“And then Hongbin was like ‘I’m not his boyf–‘” Hakyeon stops his blabbering to Wonshik mid-sentence when he spots Hongbin and Sanghyuk on the bed, and Hongbin quickly jumps to his feet. He would very much like to punch Hakyeon but he doesn’t, so he makes a mental note to later thank his parents that they raised him as a polite person. “Oh, hello.”

A grin spreads very slowly on Hakyeon’s face, and Jaehwan makes an annoying ‘ohhh’ noise. Hongbin glances at Wonshik who looks awestruck, his eyes flickering between Sanghyuk and Hongbin, and finally settle on Hongbin’s scrunched nose. He raises his eyebrows, getting an eye roll from Hongbin in return.

“Sorry for disturbing,” Jaehwan says in a tone that suggests that he, in fact, is not sorry about it at all.

They put a bunch of oranges, a package of cinnamon and two more bottles on the desk: a bottle of tequila and a whisky. The whole sight makes Hongbin’s stomach do backflips, but he doesn’t dwell much on it, because he feels an arm around his waist, startling him. Sanghyuk pulls himself into sitting position, smiling at Hongbin with half-lidded eyes when their gazes meet.

“Any plans for tonight?” Hakyeon asks, sitting on Wonshik’s chair with a cup almost full of whisky, sipping it cautiously. He gestures at Sanghyuk, saying: “I mean, apart from being too touchy-feely with each other.”

“You’re misunderstanding it…” Hongbin grumbles, but doesn’t take Sanghyuk’s arm off his body.

“Sure, just like I did a few days ago,” Hakyeon answers happily.

“We can go to a club if you want,” Wonshik says, opening one of his drawers.

He pulls out a number of things: a tiny plastic bag with greenish-brownish contents that Hongbin knows well enough, a tiny, flat paper box, a bigger one, and a small piece of paper rolled up. Hongbin watches as Wonshik rolls the joint with a little bit of disapproval just like he’s done so many times in the past.

‘Not exactly legal, but it brings money,’ Wonshik told him the first time Hongbin discovered this branch of his numerous insidious business, and he looked regretful, smiling at Hongbin with a tiny bit of sadness in his eyes. Hongbin asked him then whether he was also a consumer of his  _business tool_ ,and Wonshik said no, but that was almost a year ago.

Hongbin snaps out of his thoughts when Sanghyuk’s arm disappears from around his waist, and the boy stands up, wobbling to the desk to refill his cup.

“I don’t think you should drink any more,” Hongbin says, stepping to him.

“Don’t worry,” Sanghyuk says, pouring some clear vodka into his cup, smiling at Hongbin when he’s done. “I’ll be okay. And if not… I hope I can trust you to show me the toilet because those two definitely won’t.”

“I’d rather not,” Hongbin sighs. “But I will, if I have to.”

Sanghyuk drops his left hand down, his fingers carefully brushing against Hongbin’s and then wrapping around his palm, squeezing it just a little. Hongbin’s heart rate doubles and he starts shaking, but then he hears a boisterous laughter coming from the direction of the window, and Sanghyuk lets go of his hand.

By the open window stand Jaehwan, Wonshik and Hakyeon, and Wonshik is about to laugh his butt off when Jaehwan chokes on the smoke he inhales, seemingly trying to extinguish the burning sensation in his throat by grabbing Hakyeon’s cup and taking a big gulp. The reason why Wonshik and Hakyeon now have tears in their eyes from laughing is that Jaehwan gets even worse from the pure whisky in Hakyeon’s cup.

“Are you okay?” Hongbin asks, awkwardly patting Jaehwan’s back while the other coughs. He grabs one of the water bottles on the desk. “Here, drink some.”

Jaehwan nods, opens the bottle and drinks about half of the water.

“Hyung, that shit is not for you,” Sanghyuk shakes his head slowly from where he is sitting on Taekwoon’s bed now, leaning against the wall.

“Shut up, brat,” Jaehwan mumbles, downing a tequila shot.

Hongbin suddenly feels like he’s the fifth wheel in the circle. Jaehwan eyes the tequila bottle lovingly, possibly reading the label, humming a song to himself; Wonshik and Hakyeon stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the window, passing the joint between each other after every drag, and Hakyeon’s left hand slowly makes its way into the right back pocket of Wonshik’s jeans, at which Wonshik only smiles with closed mouth, keeping the smoke down for a few seconds; Sanghyuk closes his eyes, sipping his vodka, furrowing his brow when it burns his oesophagus; and Hongbin… Hongbin stands in the middle of all this, half-sober, trying to drink more, because he feels oddly left out.

Just when he empties his cup and finally becomes uncomfortably light-headed, he feels fingers fumbling with his hand, sliding in between his, the two hands lacing together, and Sanghyuk yanks him towards the bed.

Hongbin stands astonished; looking down at Sanghyuk watching him with his eyes glazed over with intoxication. Sanghyuk then glances at their entwined fingers, brushing his thumb across Hongbin’s.

“Your hands are tiny,” he says in an amused tone, twisting his wrist a little, examining said body part.

“I’m…” Hongbin starts stupidly, because his brain takes a lot more time to process information than usually. “I… yeah. Yeah, they’re small.”

“Mm,” Sanghyuk hums as if he was actually waiting for  _this_  exact answer. “I noticed it the first time I saw you. But I never would have thought it’d feel this tiny in mine. It’s cute.” He blinks up at Hongbin, a precious smile spreading on his face. “You’re cute.”

“Huh?” Hongbin deadpans. “Uh, you too. Actually, you’re the cute one between us two.”

“It’s nice that you think so,” Sanghyuk replies and holds Hongbin’s hand to his cheek, pressing it to the hot, flushed skin, closing his eyes. “I like you a lot, you know.”

It’s weird, weird,  _weird_ ; so alien to Hongbin he feels like disappearing into quicksand willingly–he just wants to get out of the situation. He strengthens himself, though; he’s always run away from moments like this, even when he was so lonely he felt like he was the only one in the world whose heart didn’t have a counterpart out there, that no person in seven billion people would be able to love him. He’s always run away when someone kissed the back of his hand, when someone combed through his hair with their fingers while whispering sweet nothings into his ear, when, after spending a night holding someone so close he could feel the reflection of their heartbeat in his chest, he got a goodbye kiss on his forehead, endearing texts chasing him through the following days, only stopping when he ignored them for two entire weeks.

Hongbin has always been lonely and miserably so. He would throw things to the wall in the middle of the night to prevent the tears from sliding down his face, and sing the most pathetic-sounding songs to himself in the bathroom only because he never gave a chance to anybody who tried to become a little intimate with him.

But he lets Sanghyuk press his hand to his cheek now, and he puts his cup down, reaches out to caress Sanghyuk’s hair gently even though he’s shaking and wants to throw up from the unbearable mixture of alcohol and anxiety in his stomach.

Maybe, he thinks, but just maybe it will be worth risking getting hurt this time; maybe, but just maybe Sanghyuk will be able to break through his shell and move under it to watch over him. Maybe, but just maybe Sanghyuk can be the person who will be able to love him.

“Are you two lovebirds coming with us?”

Hongbin glances at Hakyeon, narrowing his eyes at him when he notices that Hakyeon’s hand is still in Wonshik’s back pocket. Who are the lovebirds, really?

“Where?” Sanghyuk slurs, lowering their hands but not letting go of Hongbin’s.

“The club ‘round the corner,” Hakyeon replies. “Star– Star– what’s the name of it?”

“Starlight,” Wonshik helps him.

“Sleepy,” Sanghyuk murmurs.

“You?” Wonshik turns to Hongbin, looking expectant.

“I-I don’t know… He… He…” Hongbin points at Sanghyuk in the end, giving up on finding the right words.

“Okay,” Wonshik says, putting on a sweater over his T-shirt. “Then you stay here and if you want to do something nasty, do it on Taekwoon’s bed.”

“We don’t want to do anything nasty,” Hongbin replies firmly and feels proud when his tongue doesn’t stumble over the words.

“Apart from puking,” Sanghyuk sighs with his eyes shut tight. “Possibly.”

Wonshik puts his wallet and a packet of cigarettes into the pocket of his jeans, and steps to the door, waiting until Hakyeon manages to pull Jaehwan up from the chair.

“Cute,” is what Jaehwan says when he looks back at Hongbin and Sanghyuk from the doorway.

“I know, right?” Hakyeon replies, grimacing. “Nauseating.”

Hongbin wants to snarl at him, but before he could get his facial muscles to work, the door closes.

He feels dizzy; the plain white walls surrounding him blur at the corners, and he has to steady himself, grabbing the backrest of Wonshik’s chair for support when he releases Sanghyuk’s hand and pads to the desk to put the boy’s empty cup down.

Sanghyuk lies down on Taekwoon’s bed now, turns onto his right side, occasionally emitting suffering groaning noises. Hongbin makes his way back towards him, crouches down next to the bed, holding onto the frame for support, and watches as Sanghyuk tries to take deep breaths, keeping his mouth closed as tight as he can with his eyes shut. The alcohol makes Hongbin bold enough to initiate skinship: he reaches out for Sanghyuk’s bangs, sweeping them out of his face, wondering how someone’s eyes can look so beautiful even when they’re closed.

“Hongbin-ah…” Sanghyuk mumbles, and if Hongbin were sober, he would definitely be surprised by the lack of formalities.

“Yeah?”

Sanghyuk lets out a sigh and opens his eyes, although it seems it takes a lot of energy out of him. He smiles; his lips are cherry-red from his high blood pressure, a flush tinting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose pink. He raises his left arm into the air heavily, gesturing with his fingers for Hongbin to climb onto the bed.

Hongbin does so, even though it’s a single bed. He lies down facing Sanghyuk, the younger’s arm wrapping around his waist, making Hongbin feel awkward, because he has no idea where to put his own arm. He rests it on Sanghyuk’s hip in the end, and he might giggle a little at it, but he’s not sure if it actually happens or if he just thinks about it.

“Are you planning to sleep here?” Hongbin asks, just to do something.

“Will you sleep here with me?” Sanghyuk asks, and even under the drunken film on his eyes, Hongbin can see the mischievous glint.

“Do you want me to?”

Sanghyuk scoots a little closer, his nose touching Hongbin’s, giving it a few slight nudges while grinning as he closes his eyes yet again. He angles his head differently and now his lips brush against Hongbin’s–not much, but enough for Hongbin’s heart to feel like it’s going to burst, like it’s going to explode in his chest in the next second.

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk replies, his lips moving against Hongbin’s.

Hongbin waits, but it doesn’t happen. Sanghyuk doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t move away either; his hand rubs circles on the small of Hongbin’s back, his fingers slipping under the rolled up hem of his T-shirt, and Hongbin wants to scream, wants to yell at Sanghyuk to  _kiss him already_ , because he can’t do it, can’t take the first step, but he wants it so much it makes his limbs tingle and his lips burn.

He tries to move a little, get even closer, but Sanghyuk pulls back and wiggles lower, his forehead pressing against Hongbin’s chest.

“Not now,” he whispers into Hongbin’s shirt, his breath hot against Hongbin’s skin under the fabric. “I want to be sober when it happens.”

“Okay, me too,” Hongbin lies.

Sanghyuk sighs into his shirt, and probably falls asleep a few moments later, because the fingers stop tickling the skin on Hongbin’s back and little puffs of air hit his chest evenly. Tears sting Hongbin’s eyes when he thinks about tomorrow, about what will happen after this, about Sanghyuk who looks genuinely interested in him and is sleeping in his arms now, but everything is vague and fuzzy and unsure.

And as he tightens his hold around Sanghyuk, he feels his heart ache with something he hasn’t felt for a while, something that scares him more than the shadows of the night.

Hongbin dreads falling in love, but he feels more and more like there’s no way back this time.


	5. V

Hongbin sits on the bus restlessly on Monday, anticipating the meeting with Sanghyuk (and Jaehwan and Hakyeon as well, to be quite honest) at the language school with great anxiety. He shakes his leg to the rhythm of the music he’s listening to while scrolling through the messages he exchanged with Sanghyuk over the rest of the weekend, and he doesn’t even try hiding the embarrassed blush that heats his cheeks up.

On Saturday, by the time he finally managed to wake up on Taekwoon’s bed at around 11 am, Sanghyuk had already been gone. He turned onto his other side to see if he was alone in the dorm room, but Wonshik was snoring on his own bed, sleeping in a very weird position, his snapback still halfway on his head and his arms and legs thrown around in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. Hongbin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stood up cautiously, feeling his stomach do strange things and a dull pain throbbing in the back of his head. He drank some of the leftover mineral water on Wonshik’s desk, put his sweater and shoes on, grabbed the empty bottles to get rid of them, and left the dormitory.

He only checked the unread message on his phone after he’d got home, taken a shower and had something to eat.

**Hyuk, 09:47 am**  
**sorry for disappearing without a word, but i had a family gathering today. how are you feeling? do you have a hangover?**

**Hongbin, 12:59 am**  
**it’s ok, don’t worry. i’ve had it worse :) and how are you?**

And thus, they engaged in a conversation about Sanghyuk’s “horrible hangover” and the family gathering (it turned out to be Sanghyuk’s sister’s birthday), but neither of them mentioned the day before and Hongbin felt his stomach drop.

He’s extremely nervous right now too, because the scenarios that he keeps making up in his mind unwillingly are getting worse and worse, and soon he has no idea what to expect when he sees Sanghyuk in the flesh.

He sinks lower in his seat, pulling his knees up and resting them against the seat in front of him, trying to become as small as he can, the pressure in his abdomen somewhat suppressing the terrible nausea creeping up from the pit of his stomach into his throat.

He looks out the window, seeing nothing but replaying the events of Friday to himself over and over again instead while he listens to the playlist he has on all the time, submerging in Park Hyoshin’s voice and thinks: maybe the fact that Sanghyuk wants to avoid talking about what happened, what could have happened, and what he expected to happen on Friday is actually for the better. It’s the same old story again: the person who looked so fond of him a few days earlier will change their mind and Hongbin gets left alone. He smiles bitterly, but when he realizes that people might see him smiling to himself, he stops doing it.

He’s sad. Of course he’s sad; Sanghyuk is a great guy and he’s the exact opposite–that boy deserves someone who’s not… not… not  _Hongbin_ , someone who’s not a mess. Perhaps he could do something to turn this whole thing back into the original direction and actually move forward with Sanghyuk with baby steps, but perhaps not, so he doesn’t even want to try.

Park Hyoshin’s music has been played on repeat for the last few years and by now he got bored of it, but it still comforts him with its familiarity; just as the music, being alone, pushing people away has been a part of him for so long he’s grown tired of it, but it’s calmingly familiar. It’ll just take a little time for his heart to stop hoping for Sanghyuk to fall in love with him.

No big deal.


	6. VI

It does turn out to be a big deal when Sanghyuk plops down next to him in the classroom, and beams at him, his eyes ever so shiny behind his glasses. Hongbin smiles back at him, but it’s more instinctive than intentional.

“Good to see you again,” Sanghyuk says, pulling Hongbin’s pencil case closer to him to be able to examine it.

“You too,” Hongbin replies, watching Sanghyuk run his fingers over the scribbled nicknames and messy drawings on the pencil case.

“Hey, I was wondering–” Sanghyuk starts, but gets cut off by the entering teacher.

Hongbin can’t find out what Sanghyuk was wondering about until more than an hour later.

They make their way into the lounge together where Sanghyuk buys himself a cup of espresso and Hongbin buys a lemon tea. They stand awkwardly next to each other, people-watching, and Hongbin asks: “Why are you drinking that if it’s bad?”

Sanghyuk glances into his cup, and as his pinkie brushes against Hongbin’s, it curls around Hongbin’s finger almost absently, but the small smile lingering on Sanghyuk’s lips is more than telling. Hongbin blushes deeply, and tries to figure out whether his face looks like a tomato or more like a dragon fruit when Sanghyuk replies, shrugging: “It’s sewage, but it’s caffeine.”

“Are you an addict or something?”

“Not really, I just like to spend the nights playing video games rather than wasting my time sleeping.”

“Wasting your time, huh?” Hongbin snorts, because, really, what’s better in this world than sleeping?

“You should try playing with me once and you’ll realize which one’s better,” Sanghyuk grins at Hongbin, making the latter’s heart flutter in his chest vigorously. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask you back in the classroom. Would you like to come over sometime? Tonight, maybe?”

But before Hongbin could give an answer, obnoxious snickering reaches his ears, and for once he’s thankful that the Hakyeon-Jaehwan duo pops up out of nowhere, because he has absolutely no idea how to respond to Sanghyuk’s invitation.

“ _Love is in the air_ ,” Jaehwan singsongs, smirking at Sanghyuk and Hongbin’s entwined pinkies.

“See you’ve been improving your English knowledge, hyung,” Sanghyuk says, grimacing in a way that the left side of his nose moves up a little, and Hongbin quickly averts his eyes when he realizes that he actually finds that adorable.

“What stage are you guys at?” Hakyeon asks, opening a bottle of banana milk and gulping down half of it at once. He wipes the corner of his mouth, raising his eyebrows scornfully. “Don’t tell me it’s only  _this_.”

As soon as Hongbin retorts with an “And what stage are you and Wonshik at?”, a lot of things happen. Firstly, Hakyeon narrows his eyes, spitting “That’s none of your business!”; secondly, Jaehwan emits that annoying “ohhh” noise; and thirdly, Sanghyuk pulls Hongbin’s hand behind his back and releases his pinkie to hold his hand in his palm, his grip firm and sure.

Hongbin has one or two not-very-nice things in mind to offer as counter-attacks for Hakyeon’s loudmouthedness, but he’s both taken aback by Sanghyuk’s action and also understands what the boy suggests, and that’s probably something like ‘don’t mess with him’.

“I just want you brats to be happy,” Hakyeon hisses, addressing Sanghyuk. “Stupid kids.”

He turns around, leaving the lounge, and, after a surprisingly sincere apologetic smile, Jaehwan disappears as well.

Sanghyuk lets out a sigh.

“Don’t be angry,” he says, stroking the back of Hongbin’s hand with his thumb. “It’s not worth it. Hakyeon’s hard to deal with, I know, and I’m sorry, but he’s a good guy. He kind of likes to behave like my mother, and he just wants to know whether you deserve someone as awesome as me.”

Hongbin glances up at Sanghyuk to see if he’s being serious, and Sanghyuk’s eyes crinkle in the cutest way possible as he laughs, so Hongbin can’t resist the smile that breaks out on his face.

“So, what do you say about tonight?” Sanghyuk asks when he stops laughing. “I’ll make you lemon tea if you want.”

“I’m going to get overdosed very soon,” Hongbin smirks. “But okay. I’m in.”


	7. VII

Sanghyuk did make lemon tea.

When Hongbin arrived at the flat Sanghyuk’s parents rent him, he was welcomed by a smiling Sanghyuk and a mug of still hot tea that was shoved into his palms right after he took his shoes off. He looked at Hongbin expectantly until the latter finally took a sip of the tea.

“How is it?”

“Really… nice. It’s actually very good!”

“Call me chef,” Sanghyuk grinned, and Hongbin shook his head, smiling.

They have been sitting in front of the TV for hours now, Sanghyuk gradually sitting closer and closer to Hongbin on the couch as they played something that Hongbin eventually found boring. Sanghyuk opens a different game now, starts it, and talks about it so excitedly Hongbin feels the weird urge to coo at him.

(He mentally slaps himself a few times to refrain from that.)

“No, that’s not how you do it.”

Hongbin looks up at Sanghyuk with a questioning look. Sanghyuk looks patient as he scoots even closer to him, placing his hands over Hongbin’s on the controller. He covers Hongbin’s fingers with his own and blinks up at the screen, guiding Hongbin’s fingers to the right buttons, shooting once, shooting twice, but Hongbin pays no attention to the game, rather he watches Sanghyuk’s hands as they slide lower, holding his.

It’s a warm feeling not only on Hongbin’s hands as they melt into Sanghyuk’s palms, but also in his chest and head and stomach, but he only realizes the cause of it when he glances at Sanghyuk’s face. It’s the boy’s gaze that enchants Hongbin: something similar to happiness glinting in his eyes when he looks into Hongbin’s, then blinks down at Hongbin’s lips, only to meet his eyes once more before his eyelids flutter closed and he leans in.

Hongbin panics more than ever. He draws back, pulls his hands out of Sanghyuk’s grip, and backs to the end of the couch, only stopping when the small of his back hits the armrest. Sanghyuk opens his eyes and looks confused for a second before his expression turns into a disappointed one, making Hongbin want to punch himself repeatedly until his face becomes unrecognizable.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I–“ Hongbin stutters and he feels like there’s not enough air in the room for him.

“It’s okay,” Sanghyuk says, one of his hands reaching out for Hongbin, and a moment later he drops it back on the couch like Hongbin is a frightened wild animal he’s trying to tame. He smiles, but it’s nothing short of sad. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

Hongbin shakes his head briefly, and pulls his knees up to his chest to rest his forehead on them.

“Hongbin, I swear I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” Sanghyuk says, and for the first time since they met, Hongbin hears his voice shaking a little. “But please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’re a good guy,” Hongbin replies, feeling the tears prickling his eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re… you’re a good guy.”

“Is that what’s wrong?”

Hongbin lifts his head to see a surprised smile on Sanghyuk’s face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Hongbin knows he wants to brighten the mood, and he appreciates that.

“Yeah,” Hongbin mutters, and Sanghyuk’s eyebrows twitch curiously. “You’re great and I’m… I’m not.”

Sanghyuk takes a deep breath and crawls closer to Hongbin. He examines him as he cautiously lifts his arm to brush Hongbin’s fringe out of his eyes, making Hongbin’s heart throb painfully in his chest.

“You’re seriously the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” Sanghyuk says, his fingers gently prodding at Hongbin’s now, and Hongbin holds his hand timidly, not sure if it’s right. “I wouldn’t want to be around you if I didn’t think you were awesome. I like you a lot, but if you don’t like me like that, I can accept that too. All I want is to be at least your friend, okay?”

Hongbin averts his eyes, and lets out a sigh to try calm down. Sanghyuk is everything anybody could be looking for in someone; in a friend, in a boyfriend, anything. But he’s too good, too good for a mess like Hongbin, for someone with so many flaws he can’t find a single positive thing in himself, because the defects overshadow them all. He has no right to expose Sanghyuk to all those miserable things when he’s so wonderful on his own.

“I like you like that too,” Hongbin mumbles in a raspy voice, “but I’m not sure… I don’t think I deserve you. I’m a failure.”

Hongbin’s head falls back onto the top of his knees, and he only realizes he’s gripping Sanghyuk’s hand too hard when Sanghyuk tries to move his numb fingers a little. Hongbin tries to let go, but Sanghyuk won’t let him.

“Okay, listen,” Sanghyuk says, and Hongbin peeks from above his knees, still half-hiding behind them. He sees Sanghyuk fixating his eyes on the upholstery of the couch, and he thinks he sees a small blush on the boy’s face too, but he’s not entirely certain. “This is going to be awkward as hell, but if this makes you snap out of whatever’s come over you, then it’s worth it.” Sanghyuk puts his other hand on Hongbin’s, holding his palm between both of his own, smiling a little. “The first time I saw you stumble into the classroom and drop your phone I thought you were pretty damn cute. And then you smiled at me, and that was where I lost it all,” Sanghyuk chuckles, taking a deep breath as if the whole thing he’s about to tell is incredibly cringe worthy. “If it weren’t for Jaehwan bumping into you, I probably never would have dared to approach you. And this is where the most embarrassing part comes.” Sanghyuk glances up at Hongbin who now rests his chin on his right knee, but then Sanghyuk returns to examining the upholstery immediately. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of believe in all of these fate and destiny and whatever things and I just felt like… When we talked in the lounge after our first class I was so nervous, because–“

“You didn’t seem nervous.”

“I was!” Sanghyuk laughs. “I was, because there you were, and you looked breathtaking and you had that amazing voice and I felt this thing–more like thought it, actually–, that I wanted to talk to you all day everyday and get to know you and be by your side whenever I can, which was silly, because I only met you an hour before. So yeah, I… I’ve pretty much started to feel that it was… meant to be? For us to meet?”

Hongbin groans, his face distorting into a grimace.

“Yeah, it’s cheesy, and I’m sorry!” Sanghyuk laughs again, and Hongbin’s breath stutters, only halfway escaping his lungs. “But this and the fact that I think you’re a wonderful person are the biggest reasons why I like you.”

Hongbin looks down at their hands, his own still sandwiched between Sanghyuk’s, and he feels remorse creeping up in his throat, making him feel like throwing up. If Sanghyuk really means all of what he said (and he definitely looked sincere while saying those things), it all makes Hongbin the bad guy again. He never really believed Sanghyuk would find him interesting; poor nervous, lame Lee Hongbin who appears to be an insensitive jerk most of the time but actually has mental and emotional battles with himself twenty-four-seven. But doesn’t that mean that he’s never actually believed in Sanghyuk? That he’s never actually bothered to get to know him?

Hongbin’s eyes burn as he suppresses his tears. He buries his face into his shoulder and murmurs: “I’m not wonderful, Sanghyuk. You don’t… you don’t know me.”

“I know enough about you to have an opinion about you, and my opinion is that you’re just as much a good guy as you think I am,” Sanghyuk says, and Hongbin can feel his gaze on himself. “I know that you’re jittery all the time when you’re in public. I know that you put two sugars into your lemon tea, which I honestly can’t understand, because what’s the point of  _lemon_  tea if you’re going to make it sweet? I know that you straighten your hair because you don’t like it to be curly, but do you know how cute you look when a wavy strand peeks from behind your ear? I know that you’re left-handed, but apart from writing, eating and playing the guitar, you do everything else with your right hand. And recently I learnt to distinguish between your forced and honest smiles. Of course I don’t know you that well yet, but all the things I know about you now are cool, they’re good, because they make you who you are. Do you believ–“

Sanghyuk can’t finish his sentence, because suddenly two hands cup his face (an index finger almost poking out his left eye), and a pair of chapped lips gets pressed on his. Hongbin kisses him like he never did with anybody; drawing back and kissing again until his ears ring with his own heartbeat, until he can feel Sanghyuk’s arms around his waist, pulling him closer. It hurts–feels much like when every inch of your skin aches with fever, but it’s a positive aching, something Hongbin could never explain to anybody who hasn’t experienced it yet, and he doesn’t even want to; there’s no need for words, and that’s partly why he made Sanghyuk shut up. The other part of the story is that Hongbin feels incredibly touched and something more, something way more intensive that makes him want to hold Sanghyuk in his arms until he breathes his last.

“So are y–“

Yet another one of Sanghyuk’s sentences gets cut off by Hongbin’s lips on his and his weight on Sanghyuk’s lap as the boy falls back on the couch, Hongbin hovering above him, half kneeling on a controller as he deepens the kiss. He feels a smile on his mouth and another joining it right away, and it’s then that he realizes that he has leant into Sanghyuk’s fingers under the strands of his hair; it’s then that he finally breaks the kiss with the happiest grin that has probably ever appeared on his face.

“You know,” he starts, but his voice is too hoarse, so he clears his throat, not missing the oh-so-familiar mischievous glint flashing in Sanghyuk’s eyes, “what you said was really creepy. I’m glad you know those things about me, but, please… don’t ever tell me about them again.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Sanghyuk grimaces.

“Yeah, well, don’t be,” Hongbin smirks. “Not this way.”

“What way then?”

“Just shut the hell up,” Hongbin mouths against Sanghyuk’s lips.


	8. VIII

Two weeks later when Hongbin lies in Sanghyuk’s bed, almost drifting off while watching some cheap horror film on Sanghyuk’s laptop, his phone rings in the pocket of his jeans that are thrown onto the floor. He reaches for it and fishes it out, seeing Wonshik’s name on the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Hongbin-ah, um… so I was thinking that maybe… I don’t know…”

“Could you spit it out already?” Hongbin sighs.

“Right, do you… possibly, well, want a dog?”

“A dog?”

Sanghyuk casts him a questioning look, leaning closer to the phone in Hongbin’s hand to be able to hear what Wonshik has to say.

“Yeeeah, I kind of have one to spare.”

Hongbin takes a few moments to let the information sink in. When he finally comprehends his friend’s words, he blinks at a very surprised Sanghyuk and asks from Wonshik: “Why exactly do you have a dog  _to spare_?”

Hongbin hears a careworn sigh from the other end of the line.

“Okay, look,” Wonshik mumbles, and Hongbin imagines him rubbing his face with his palm as he always does when something bothers him too much. “Taekwoon showed up an hour ago in dirty clothes and his face full of scratches and bruises and he brought along a puppy. He refuses to tell me where he was for almost three weeks or why he looks the way he does or why he suddenly has a dog, for that matter. He just… he just went to take a shower and told me to watch the puppy and he wants to keep it but  _we live in a dorm, for God’s sake!_ ”

“Wonshik, I don’t want to deal with a prank like this now, so–“

“This is not a prank!” Wonshik exclaims and both Hongbin and Sanghyuk flinch at the harsh tone. “You know how scary Taekwoon can be; he said he wasn’t going to take the dog to a shelter and would only give up on it if someone he knows adopted it. So please? Please? We’re friends.”

“I…” Hongbin sees Sanghyuk nodding his head vigorously next to him, and he doesn’t understand why he’s doing it, but he figures he will have time to deal with his boyfriend’s unexplainable actions later. “I don’t know what you should do, but I can’t have a dog, Wonshik. I can barely keep myself alive. I’m sorry, but… I don’t know, try to talk to Taekwoon? He can’t be so stupid that he doesn’t see the situation you guys are in.”

There’s silence for a few seconds. Hongbin hears a high-pitched bark in the background, and then Wonshik’s voice again: “I’m going to move from this room. I’m going to move and Taekwoon’s going to kill me. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Wonshik?” Hongbin asks worriedly.

“It’s okay,” Wonshik repeats. “I just… I have to give water to the little guy. Bye.”

And with that, Wonshik hangs up.

Hongbin stares at his phone like he has never seen a device like that before, but then Sanghyuk’s head occupies his vision; big, shiny eyes, unruly hair, creases left by the pillow on his face and all.

“How could you turn that offer down?” he asks, furrowing his brow judgingly.

“Are you mad?” Hongbin asks, and suddenly thinks that as much of a train wreck he is, he might be the only sane person around. “It’s a real, living, breathing dog. I can’t deal with a dog, I never had one.”

“I would’ve helped you!” Sanghyuk says indignantly.

“I’m not having a dog with you for a good while yet,” Hongbin replies, thinking that this time he might have won this battle.

But the corners of Sanghyuk’s lips slowly curl up until he’s smirking down at Hongbin with his eyes shaped like tiny crescents, making the latter feel like the ever-present butterflies in his stomach have gone crazy. And also a little bit like he wants to punch Sanghyuk.

“How long is that ‘good while’ exactly?” Sanghyuk asks.

“Remind me to enlighten your parents how big of a mistake they made when they taught you how to talk,” Hongbin grumbles, kicking Sanghyuk’s shin under the blanket.

“Oh, so you want to meet my parents now?”

Hongbin blushes deep red and lifts his arm to flick Sanghyuk on the forehead, but Sanghyuk catches his wrist and pins it over his head, bending lower to be able to kiss him.

And when he feels the soft pecks on the corner of his mouth a few minutes and some intense snogging later, Hongbin, for about the millionth time since he first kissed Sanghyuk, thinks that this time he made the right decision when he decided not to run away from falling in love.

But, to be quite honest, that’s all thanks to the boy with the black plastic framed glasses and cute nose who grinned at him on his first day at the language school.


	9. Epilogue

Hongbin winces in surprise when Sanghyuk’s phone starts ringing.

He shouldn’t wince; the sound shouldn’t be as startling as it is, he shouldn’t be so lost in his thoughts. In fact, he should be concentrating on the History notes in his hands, but he  _isn’t_ ; he was thinking about snow and ice and penguins that don’t have to deal with the heat that surrounds him right now.

“Saturday?” Sanghyuk asks from the caller. Hongbin glances up at him from where his head is pillowed on Sanghyuk’s thighs. Sanghyuk looks down at him and mouths the name ‘Hakyeon’. “Okay, I’ll ask him. No, we won’t buy you anything too expensive. What, between ₩30 000 and ₩60 000? You should be happy if I don’t leave a bag of dog shit on your porch. Yeah. Yeah. Sure. I don’t care. Okay. Bye. Alright.  _Bye_.”

Sanghyuk sighs as he ends the call and tosses his phone on the nightstand. He leans back against the headboard of the bed.

“What did he want?” Hongbin asks curiously.

“He said he wants to go to some club on his birthday this Saturday,” Sanghyuk replies and bends over, sweeps Hongbin’s damp bangs out of his forehead and Hongbin blushes, suddenly aware of every drop of sweat on his skin. He should long have realized that Sanghyuk doesn’t find it gross, or at least, even if he does, he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t say anything as the pads of his fingers wipe the little beads of perspiration off Hongbin’s face. “Told me to invite you, too. Wonshik is coming, he already called him, and Wonshik will try to persuade Taekwoon. You have split ends.”

“Why Taekwoon, though?” Hongbin inquires, snatching Sanghyuk’s wrist to stop him from combing through his hair. “Does he want to die? Does he want Wonshik to die? Your shampoo’s shit, that’s why I have split ends.”

“Hakyeon says Taekwoon has been distressed since Cinnamon, née George, was returned to his original owners. He wants to cheer him up.” Sanghyuk takes Hongbin’s fingers off his wrist and continues carding through his dark locks. “Have you ever thought about buying your own stuff instead of living off mine? Cheapskate.”

“I liked that puppy,” Hongbin says. While Cinnamon ( _née_  George) was still at Wonshik and Taekwoon’s dorm, he paid a lot more visits to his best friend. When Taekwoon had found the tiny dog, Hongbin turned down Wonshik’s offer (begging, really) to adopt the puppy, but Hongbin has missed the little guy for the last two weeks. “But I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to take Taekwoon to a crowded place in his current state. He’s quite irritable. And as long as you’re eating the food I make or bring home, you have no right to complain about me using your stuff. Shameless brat.”

“Then, excuse me, Your Fussy Grace, I have to do everything so that you will never ever have to wash your hair with my shitty shampoo again,” Sanghyuk says and pulls his legs out from under Hongbin’s head, gets off their bed and steps to the closet to take a clean towel out of it.

Hongbin sticks his tongue out at him. Before he would leave the room, Sanghyuk bends over the bed and Hongbin thinks he wants to kiss him, so he decides that he won’t let Sanghyuk do that (or maybe just a little), already believes that he’s winning this battle, but then Sanghyuk presses his lips to Hongbin’s cheek, and–

“Ouch!” Hongbin yells. “You bit me!”

“Excellent observation skills.”

Why is it that he can never win against Sanghyuk?

 

 

Hongbin blinks up at the ceiling, tries to keep his eyes open while attempting to stop the tears from welling up in the meantime.

“Are you okay?” Sanghyuk asks, holding his hand.

“No,” Hongbin replies, sniffling, gaze still on the ceiling.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really, it’s just a weird feeling and I can’t seem to get used to it.”

“It’ll be better soon, I promise.”

Hongbin looks at Sanghyuk and nearly swoons.

Sanghyuk’s eyes are framed by the same pitch-black eyeliner Hongbin has around his own eyes, both pairs of eyeliner applied by Cha Hakyeon, who was determined to put it on all five of them, and is now working on Jaehwan’s face. It was a horrible idea and none of them were happy about it (“It’s my birthday, though!” Hakyeon whined), except for Wonshik who’s used to some black shit colouring his waterline. Taekwoon is still not perfectly okay with the thing; he’s sitting on his bed, takes deep breaths every now and then, waiting for his turn. He only agreed to let Hakyeon ‘make a clown out of him’ (Taekwoon’s words) because Hakyeon promised him that he would ask Cinnamon’s (George’s) owners to let the puppy spend a week long vacation at Taekwoon and Wonshik’s, and knowing Hakyeon, he will actually make that happen. As Hongbin sees, Taekwoon has also learnt that this is how Hakyeon works over the month Hakyeon and Wonshik have been maintaining something that can absolutely not be called a relationship, even though there are a lot of things in it that strangers or even friends don’t usually do. And Taekwoon, poor thing, is probably forced to witness more of that phenomenon between Wonshik and Hakyeon than he deems necessary.

So now Sanghyuk stands in front of Hongbin with his eyes emphasized by the heavy black eyeliner and he looks breathtakingly gorgeous to the point Hongbin finds himself panting a little from the sight.

“Don’t worry, it’s waterproof,” Hakyeon calls from where he’s sitting on Wonshik’s bed, wiping smudged parts off the corner of Jaehwan’s right eye with a q-tip.

“That’s very reassuring, considering that we have no makeup remover at home,” Sanghyuk replies sarcastically.

Hakyeon stops fixing Jaehwan’s eyeliner and reaches into the duffle bag he took with him, fishes out a bottle and tosses it to Sanghyuk.

“We’ll just use Wonshik’s,” Hakyeon says, glancing at said person, receiving a nod from him.

“Are you all going to sleep here?” Hongbin inquires.

“Yeah, are you?” Taekwoon asks softly, looks up from the carpet he was examining. He’s visibly worried he will have to sleep in the same bed with Jaehwan.

“We are,” Hakyeon replies, patting Jaehwan’s cheek as he finishes applying the eyeliner.

Jaehwan takes his phone out of his pocket, turns the front camera on and examines his face, says, “Holy shit, I look hot!”

“Jaehwan?” Wonshik raises his eyebrows at Hakyeon.

“I have a sleeping bag,” Jaehwan replies, pointing at the object rolled up next to Hakyeon’s duffle bag. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Good,” Taekwoon mumbles, shuffling over to Hakyeon who’s motioning for him to take a seat in front of him.

Roughly half an hour later they are all sitting in a taxi. Hongbin is playing with Sanghyuk’s hand in his own nervously, looks out the window while the others are drinking from Hakyeon’s hip flask.

He’s not sure if this whole thing is a good idea. To tell the truth, a few days ago, when Sanghyuk received the phone call from Hakyeon and told Hongbin what his friend wanted, Hongbin already felt the anxious hit in his stomach. He’s not the club-goer type; there are lots of people there, lots of things that can go wrong, lots of opportunities for something awful to happen. He feels nothing short of hatred for clubs, has felt it since long; went to places like that a few times and always regretted doing so. Just the sight of drunk people around him, all of their minds hazy enough to risk anything they could just because they’re high on whatever alcohol contains (he’s never been a fan of chemistry), those images make him dizzy.

He only said yes when Sanghyuk asked him if he would come because he had turned him down so many times before. He would say “I’ll be okay, you just go have fun!” with fake cheerfulness in his voice and an even faker smile, neither of those caused by jealousy or selfishness but by regret and disappointment that he couldn’t get himself to go, even if it was for someone who meant so much to him. Sanghyuk always obeyed with a smile at least as insincere as Hongbin’s and always returned home two hours later at most.

Hongbin doesn’t want to back off now. He wants Sanghyuk to be able to have fun with him, even if he himself doesn’t–won’t–feel happy at all.

“Whisky?”

Hongbin looks at Sanghyuk and his palms become clammy, because, shit, he forgot Sanghyuk has that goddamn eyeliner on, and now he has to realize it again, beautiful, so beautiful, Sanghyuk looks so hot it feels like someone is setting fire to Hongbin’s insides. He pecks Sanghyuk’s lips, leaves the boy blinking at him in surprise, but he doesn’t want to do anything else here, lest Hakyeon starts bothering them. He grabs the hip flask from Sanghyuk’s hand and gulps down some of the burning liquid before he turns to face the window again.

The club is a little less crowded than Hongbin thought it would be; there’s a fair amount of sweaty people dancing on the floor, it would still be hard for him to follow Sanghyuk if he weren’t holding his hand, but it doesn’t seem as suffocating as he imagined. That’s a relief.

“Do you want something to drink?” Sanghyuk yells into his ear, but it sounds like a mere whisper through the blasting music.

“Yeah. A beer.”

“Okay,” Sanghyuk replies smiling, and presses a kiss to Hongbin’s neck before he starts making his way towards the bar.

Hakyeon and Wonshik waddle off as well and so Hongbin gets left alone with a weirdly tottering (dancing?) Jaehwan and Taekwoon who stands with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyeing the crowd in a way that feels a little unsettling for Hongbin, his gaze made even more intense by the eyeliner. All in all, Jaehwan looks stupid and Taekwoon looks intimidating, and Hongbin doesn’t really want to be associated with either of these adjectives.

Someone bumps into him and he apologizes, but his voice gets drowned out by the music. There’s a hand on his backside, and another one on his shoulder, and when he turns around to see what’s going on, he’s faced with a young woman who examines him from head to toe, the right corner of her blood red lips curling upwards.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Hongbin mumbles, probably inaudible as he starts backing away from the woman. She casts him a scornful look as if she expected something else and clears off.

Hongbin is shivering but he has no idea why; he has no idea how he can be so scared of a woman who most likely thought she might have a nice one-night stand with him. He turns back to Jaehwan and Taekwoon; Jaehwan is dancing away on his own but Taekwoon is staring at the woman and then glances at Hongbin–a question:  _are you okay_? Hongbin averts his eyes, he doesn’t want to know that his awkwardness or whatever is so visible that even Taekwoon can see it.

Hands everywhere, all over him, hands and other bodies; he feels someone’s breath on the nape of his neck and Sanghyuk comes back just then with two bottles of beer in his hands, gives one of them to Hongbin who presses closer to him, hugs him by the small of his back and closes his eyes, tries to shut off the sounds (the music, the laughter, the singing), burying his face into the crook of Sanghyuk’s neck. He feels his face heating up even under the layer of cold sweat that forms little beads under his fringe.

“Hey,” Sanghyuk says with a little laughter in his voice. “Hey, are you all right?”

Hongbin sighs into the shoulder of his black button-up,  _no, he isn’t_ , but Sanghyuk looked so happy when they arrived, he just has to endure a little longer.

“I missed you,” Hongbin says, pulling away, a jittery smile on his face.

“Ew, cheesy,” Sanghyuk replies, ruffling Hongbin’s hair in a way that makes Hongbin furrow his brow in irritation.

Sanghyuk joins Jaehwan in the dance, his moves somewhat less ridiculous than Jaehwan’s, but Hongbin still feels embarrassed to do anything like that. He wishes he could just be like Taekwoon: repelling people with his stare and not expected to do anything apart from standing still in the middle of the dance floor.

Hongbin gulps down most of his beer like it’s water, hopes it’ll help him be less nervous. It’s always this, always the alcohol, he keeps thinking that will help and it helped once or maybe messed things up, but he’s together with Sanghyuk, isn’t he? Now, maybe alcohol can do wonders and will actually get him out of this very annoying shell he lives in.

But a beer won’t do that, and he knows.

Still more hands, still more bodies and Hongbin turns his face upwards, wants to shout, to scream at people to take their fucking hands off him, but then there are fingers tickling his skin under his shirt and he looks down to see a stranger man’s wrists. Someone breathes into his ear, body flush against Hongbin’s and he hears the whisper: “Hello, pretty boy”, and that’s what terrifies him so much he drops his beer bottle, the green glass shattering on the floor by someone’s sneakers and he starts pushing through the crowd as fast as he can, trying to inhale, but he can’t–there’s not enough oxygen, he’s going to die.

Well-lit hallway, yellow and bright, a solid wall against Hongbin’s back as he crouches down, hugs his knees, tries to become as tiny as possible. He rests his forehead on top of his knees, takes deep breaths and attempts to exhale slowly, but he’s unable to do that and his chest start heaving with the exertion to make his body do what he wants it to do.

He’s disgusted and feels filthy in a way he doesn’t understand, because  _nothing_  happened, but the man whispering into his ear was too much, it pushed him over the edge and he wants to get out of this place, but has no idea how to do that, because he only knows of one way out and it’s through the crowd.

He wants nothing more than to call Sanghyuk, but he feels that would be an egoistic move. Sanghyuk is having fun and a nervous wreck like Hongbin should not distract him from that. All of them are having fun, all the people in the club, maybe not those that are retching in the corner (Hongbin needs to swallow down his own urge to puke when he sees a boy who’s doing exactly that), but they’re good, they aren’t shivering by the wall like a scared little forest bunny that just encountered a malicious hunter.

They most probably aren’t so shaken up by their own fright as Hongbin either, they most probably don’t loathe themselves at the moment as much as Hongbin does, they’re managing to feel good in the crowd, they’re surviving each other and Hongbin is slowly drowning in his sea of nervousness in the hallway, miserably alone.

He feels the weight of a hand on his right shoulder and untangles his arms from around his legs at the speed of sound, jumps away, looks at the person that touched him horrified.

“Taekwoon.”

He pulled a muscle on the back of his neck, that’s how fast and convulsively he reacted.

“Are you okay?” Taekwoon asks as Hongbin massages the spot on his nape.

Hongbin looks around quickly like he’s paranoid, and maybe he actually is. Taekwoon steps closer, examines his face, his gaze flicking from Hongbin’s right eye to the left one and back like he can read his mind.

“Sanghyuk is looking for you,” Taekwoon says. “Do you want me to–“

“Hongbin!” Hakyeon calls from the end of the hallway, from the doorway that leads into the men’s bathroom. He clings onto Wonshik and they both look like they went out in a tornado: all ruffled hair and creased clothes that stick out where they should be tucked in. He raises his eyebrows at the other man. “Taekwoon?”

“Call Sanghyuk,” Taekwoon tells Hakyeon who furrows his brow as the two lovebirds step to them.

“Why, is he–“

“Look at me!” Wonshik’s voice is firm as he cuts Hakyeon off, shoves him aside from Hongbin almost unnoticeably as he cups Hongbin’s cheeks, looks deeply into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

It feels like his heart can finally throb freely again as he looks into Wonshik’s dark, warm  eyes, familiar and safe, eyes he cannot lie to. He shakes his head violently and presses his forehead against Wonshik’s chest; breathe in, breathe out, repeat. Muffled voices surround him as the others talk, but he has no idea what they’re saying, his face is buried into Wonshik’s T-shirt, his best friend’s arms wound around his shoulders protectively.

“Hongbin-aaah!”

Hongbin looks up from Wonshik’s chest to see a pretty sloshed Sanghyuk and a giggling Jaehwan.

“You need to take Hongbin home,” Taekwoon tells Sanghyuk.

“Home?” Sanghyuk mumbles. “Now? It’s not even 2 a.m. yet. Bin-ah, is something wrong?”

Hongbin pulls away from Wonshik and glances at Sanghyuk, trying to communicate without words that  _everything_  is wrong. Sanghyuk grabs Hongbin’s hand, blinks at Wonshik to give him room so that he can step closer to Hongbin.

“What’s the matter, love?” Sanghyuk slurs, his free hand combing through Hongbin’s hair.

“I want to go home,” Hongbin mutters, looking into Sanghyuk’s unfocused eyes, attempting to see how far gone his boyfriend is (the word ‘love’ suggested too far, because Sanghyuk knows exactly how Hongbin feels about those terms of endearment). “I need to go home.”

“I’ll go call a taxi,” Taekwoon announces and disappears from the hallway.

“And I’ll bring you some water,” Wonshik says, earning a grateful glance from Hongbin.

“Why do you want to go home?” Hakyeon asks.

“I don’t feel very well,” Hongbin replies, avoiding Hakyeon’s eyes, because telling Sanghyuk that he’s a train wreck is one thing, letting others know as well is another. “Can we go home?”

“The place is great, though,” Sanghyuk says with a grin. “We should stay some more.”

“Sanghyuk, I’m scared, okay?” Hongbin hisses into his boyfriend’s ear. “People are everywhere, they’re– they’re touching me and I feel like throwing up. Please,  _please_ , let’s go home.”

“Do you want to run away?” Sanghyuk asks, his grin fading. “This is a good opportunity for you, Hongbin. Look, the more time you can spend in this place, the stronger you’ll become. Trust me, it’ll become better if we stay.”

“He’s right,” Jaehwan trills, tugging at Hongbin’s hand and Hongbin gives him a sharp look, shaking Jaehwan’s fingers off him.

“I’m terrified of going out there,” Hongbin says, tears stinging his eyes as he looks at Sanghyuk. “I want to go home, please, let me.”

“It’s a great therapy, Hongbin, you should stay,” Sanghyuk says. His hand slides from under Hongbin’s hair down to his waist and he starts pulling him towards the dance floor. “I’ll protect you from those evil people, okay?”

“No!” Hongbin exclaims and tears himself out of Sanghyuk’s arms. “Stay if you want, but I’ll get the fuck out of here.”

“Hongbin!”

He hears Sanghyuk, Hakyeon and Jaehwan’s voices as he pushes through the first few sweat-slick bodies, head tipped up to be able to breathe, but he’s shaking so hard it probably looks like he’s having a seizure. Their voices soon die out and Hongbin gets out of the dance floor, out of the club as he all but falls onto his knees on the pavement in front of the door. He finds Taekwoon standing among the smokers–he drops his cigarette and steps on it to stub it out. He notices Hongbin and points at the taxi parking on the side of the road in front of him.

“Thank you,” Hongbin mumbles while opening the door of the car.

“Be careful,” Taekwoon says in return, leaning against the car when Hongbin gets in.

“Yeah. Tell Wonshik I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait for him to get back.”

Taekwoon nods, and closes the door, sending Hongbin a small, understanding smile before Hongbin gives his address to the driver and finally gets away from the deepest pit of hell.

 

 

That night, after he takes the eyeliner off with the help of Hakyeon’s makeup remover and some tissues more or less effectively, brushes his teeth and takes a shower (scrubs until he has red marks on his stomach, tears at his skin with his blunt nails–disgusting, revolting, a fucking  _coward_ ), he puts on a clean shirt over his boxer briefs and climbs into bed, pulls the blanket over his head, hides under it like he did when he was little, because blankets keep monsters out.

Except when they’re inside you.

The guilt gnaws at his guts for hours; when he sleeps, it’s fitful and he wakes up when Sanghyuk stumbles into the bedroom, sighing loudly and taking deep breaths, fumbling with his clothes until he manages to peel them off and falls into bed in his underwear.

There are no ‘I’m home’ kisses on Hongbin’s back and the shell of his ear, no arm wrapping around his middle or little nuzzles on the nape of his neck–there’s nothing but the movement of the mattress as Sanghyuk rolls onto his other side, lying with his back to Hongbin’s.

He can’t fall asleep until the sun is already high up on the sky and Sanghyuk snores next to him like nothing ever happened.

 

 

He sits in the armchair in the corner of their bedroom in the afternoon, his fingers moving on the strings absently, the guitar propped up on his knee. His eyes are fixated on the window opposite him, gaze flicking up and down on the wrinkles of the curtain, but he can’t see any of the patterns on it.

He hums the song to himself, but he’s not even sure if it’s actually audible.

Wrong chord.

Damn it.

Again.

The bedroom door opens and Hongbin almost drops the guitar. He clutches it as hard as he can, looking up at Sanghyuk, feeling anger boiling in his veins as he does so.

Sanghyuk wasn’t at home when Hongbin woke up, but there was a box of Chinese takeout on the kitchen counter with a note on the top of it, informing Hongbin that Sanghyuk went to retrieve his phone from Hakyeon who found it on the backseat of the taxi they took to go home from the club, and a postscript:  _‘It’s your favourite, eat it all up!’_ The food ended up sitting on the top shelf of the fridge, untouched.

He turns back to his guitar now, adjusts his hold on it and starts playing again from the middle of the song, probably, he has no idea, and he feels self-conscious of his talent in Sanghyuk’s presence.

“ _I bruise easily._ ”

Hongbin stops, lets out a deep sigh.

“It’s a great song,” Sanghyuk says, sounding almost defensive, and Hongbin almost lets his anger dissolve in the pool of affection that grows inside his chest upon hearing the gentle tone in which Sanghyuk says that, because it’s an apology. It’s a begging for forgiveness. “And you’re playing it amazingly.”

“No, I’m not,” Hongbin replies, fiddling with the position of his instrument like it needs to be corrected.

“It sounded perfect to me.”

And there it is: the kindness, the benevolence in Sanghyuk’s voice; the fondness and the will to make peace, but it only makes Hongbin even more enraged.

“It wasn’t,” he says, glancing back up at Sanghyuk. “It’s never going to be perfect. It can’t be perfect, because I’m never going to be able to play the chords perfectly.”

“Hongbin…” Sanghyuk steps into the bedroom, sits down on the bed, butt hovering over the mattress tentatively for a second as if Hongbin would kick him off it. (He pretty much wants to, but he’d never do that to Sanghyuk. Not out of sheer violence, at least.) “I know we fucked up. Jaehwan and me. We were forcing you and we didn’t really think about it, and–“

“It’s not  _Jaehwan and you_  who should have thought about it,” Hongbin cuts in. “It’s only you. You should have fucking thought about it.”

“I know,” a gulp. “I know, but I couldn’t really… I can’t imagine how it feels for you, Hongbin, I don’t know how you feel when you’re out there and so I have no idea what might be so triggering for you that it pushes you over the edge, and–no, let me speak–I wouldn’t do these things if I knew how it works. I want to help you.”

“Why?” Hongbin asks, voice a little shaky but stronger than Sanghyuk’s.

“Why?”

“Yes. Why? Why do you want to help me? Why do you think I need help? It’s something that exists with me, it exists  _in_  me, and you said– you told me you liked everything about me, even the things you hate. So why do you still want to change me?”

Sanghyuk furrows his brow. He looks utterly confused.

“Hongbin– what? You’re… but you don’t feel well when we’re at places like that.”

“So?”

A long moment of silence. Sanghyuk looks like he wants to shake Hongbin by the shoulders, to tell him to cut the act, because he doesn’t understand what’s going on. And Hongbin stares at him, wants an answer, demands a logical explanation, one that will set him at ease.

“Isn’t it natural that I want to pry you out of this thing?” Sanghyuk asks finally. “I want to do everything I can to make you feel relaxed outside this bedroom.”

“And why do you think pushing me into situations like this would make me feel relaxed?”

“Fuck, I don’t know!” Sanghyuk throws his arms into the air. “I’m so clueless about what I should do; if only you could give me guidance–“

“Don’t you fucking think that if I knew what to do I’d do it myself? Is that how weak I seem?”

“No! Damn it, no! You’re stronger than anyone I know because you’re afraid of going out into the crowd–you said you are, these are your words–but you still do! But you’re suffering and you obviously want to get better at socializing, and I want to help because I can’t fucking bear seeing you suffer!”

“So it all comes down to  _you_  feeling bad.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sanghyuk mumbles, but his voice trembles with fury like he actually wants to yell at Hongbin. “Are you saying that I’m selfish because I don’t want to see you looking at every person like they want to murder you? Because if you are, then you’re right. And, for the millionth time, I have no idea how to stop this thing for you, so last night I thought ‘hey, maybe if he goes out more, if he stays longer at places like this, he’ll get better by time’ and it sounds stupid, I know, but this one was my only idea and I wanted to give it a shot. Look, I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Hongbin almost chokes on the words. He holds the neck of the guitar so tight he can feel the pattern of the strings getting imprinted in the skin of his palm. “But, you know, it’s not like you need to do this. I told you at the very beginning that I was a failure. I’m a fucking train wreck and anyone who gets close to me takes a huge burden onto themselves. There’s a shitload of things I can’t help and I’m always so damn anxious and I’m sorry for making you feel like it’s your job to play the psychotherapist. It was not my intention, but we can still quit this whole thing.”

Sanghyuk opens his mouth and then closes it right after. Hongbin clenches his jaw, his teeth hurting from it, the angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and he can see the same thing on Sanghyuk: like the mirror image of his own expression.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Sanghyuk asks slowly, whispers it into the heavy air.

“I just want to make you feel  _relaxed_.”

Sanghyuk stands up from the bed and Hongbin follows the movement with his gaze. Sanghyuk steps to the door, keeps his eyes on the carpet under his feet.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Hongbin might be imagining it, but it seems like Sanghyuk shudders a little as he presses down the door handle, and Hongbin wants to scream at him, wants to yell at him to  _get his ass back into the room_ , that he doesn’t mean it, not now, he meant it a few seconds ago but not now.

But Sanghyuk has already closed the door after him.

Hongbin lets go of the guitar’s neck, places the instrument into the stand and collapses on top of his knees, presses his arms against his abdomen to stop the tears that are bubbling up from God knows where, takes a few deep breaths and waits for the sound of the front door opening and then closing.

Maybe it has already happened, he just missed it.

He missed the opportunity to stand up and run after the only person who is willing to rack his brains trying to find solutions for his problem– _his_  problem, not theirs. Theirs in the sense that he successfully extended it over Sanghyuk, over their relationship because that’s how horrible a person he is. Probably the worst human in the entire race.

He’s not even angry with Sanghyuk, not really, not anymore; he was angry with everyone last night, because he was hurt and felt guilty, but now he only feels hatred for himself, is furious that he has to live with being a coward who is unable to take care of himself, and as soon as someone starts caring about him, he pushes them away. Pathetic and disgusting.

“Actually, it’s not okay at all.”

Hongbin jumps in surprise and straightens, wants to find where Sanghyuk’s voice is coming from, but he has no time for that, because Sanghyuk presses his lips against Hongbin’s hard, like he wants to beat him up somehow this way, like he could leave bruises with his soft lips, like he wants to punch Hongbin but can’t get himself to do it, so he hurts him with a kiss instead.

And it does hurt like a bitch, although, not on the surface but inside Hongbin’s chest, in his stomach, in his arms that he wraps around Sanghyuk’s neck, in his fingers that pull at Sanghyuk’s hair just a little, the way he likes it. It hurts in his neck where Sanghyuk’s palm rests and on the line of his jaw as Sanghyuk brushes a thumb over it, and it hurts in his legs when he stands up, and in his back that hits the mattress when Sanghyuk pushes him down on it, lips never leaving his.

Sanghyuk tugs at the hem of Hongbin’s shirt and Hongbin sits up a little to help him get it off. He has no time to see where it lands when Sanghyuk throws it, because he’s being kissed senseless again, Sanghyuk’s tongue brushing over his lower lip and licking into his mouth the next moment, dancing with Hongbin’s in the same pace it always does but differently, always differently, always making their kisses feel anew. He bites down on Hongbin’s lower lip when he pulls back a bit to tilt his head to the other side and kiss again while his right hand caresses Hongbin’s torso, touches it everywhere, makes Hongbin’s fingers tighten around his locks more and more with every line he strokes over the skin covered in goose bumps.

There’s a peck to Hongbin’s cheek and another one to the corner of his mouth, and then Sanghyuk nibbles on his neck, sucks at it, leaves a hickey there: a mark that will embarrass Hongbin when he looks into the mirror a few hours later, a mark that right now means Sanghyuk wants them to stay together, a mark that serves as a seal on their relationship almost falling apart but being saved by the sheer fact that they are both in love with the other.

Hongbin’s breaths come in little puffs when Sanghyuk moves downwards, tongue darting out to lick at his collarbone. He wants to speak–he  _needs_  to speak before his mind gets too hazy from everything Sanghyuk: from the scent of his perfume to his tender touches.

“I’m s-sorry for being so ungrateful,” he stutters out finally, fingers curling into Sanghyuk’s hair and the fabric of his T-shirt on his back. “I’m an asshole, I’m sorry. I’m so ungrateful.”

Sanghyuk presses a kiss to his shoulder and draws back, looks at Hongbin with his eyes glazed over. It’s not the same look Hongbin gets when Sanghyuk is just plain aroused; it’s filled with so much love and caring it almost breaks Hongbin’s heart.

(Funny, Hongbin thinks, isn’t a lack of those things supposed to break one’s heart? But to him, it definitely feels like the pressure of his feelings inside is cracking the walls.)

“You are,” Sanghyuk says, voice surprisingly steady, for which Hongbin hates him a little. “An asshole, I mean. I messed up, so there was nothing you should have been grateful for. I do think the way I thought about the situation was an asshole move too, not caused by the alcohol at all, so… at least this trait we share.”

Hongbin grins with his mouth stretched so wide the corners of it almost reach his ears, and Sanghyuk smiles down at him, kisses him with the smile still intact, his hand coming up from Hongbin’s side to cup his cheek.

“I love you so much,” Sanghyuk whispers into his mouth.

“I love you, too. You are my everything.”

“And you are mine.”

 

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me about any of my stories or just vixx in general on [tumblr](http://hongbab.tumblr.com/), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hongbab) or [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1061753) ♡ please support me on [ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/hongbab) if you can ♡


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